


A Pale Rider

by Jaeger Gipsy Danger (Carleen)



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Kirk/Spock too much candy, M/M, Star Trek Halloween Story, Star Trek TOS K/S
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-10
Updated: 2019-04-10
Packaged: 2020-01-10 23:39:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18418289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carleen/pseuds/Jaeger%20Gipsy%20Danger
Summary: Kirk, Spock, holiday-appropriate metaphors and too much Halloween candy.





	A Pale Rider

 

* * *

"I looked and there before me was a pale horse! Its rider was named Death…"

* * *

 

"Admit it, Spock. We're lost."

"Lost? I believe that is a human expression admitting a lack of directional sense and spatial awareness."

"That's what I said."

Spock turned back to his Captain, who was experiencing difficulty climbing up the trail that Spock had just easily negotiated.

"Captain, if I may?"

"I can manage, Mister Spock." Oomph!

The rock scree under his feet suddenly shifted, and he began to slide back down the path. The Vulcan reached out quickly and pulled him up. Spock reacted so fast, and the force of his pull brought the human directly into contact with Spock they bumped together. Kirk gave a little gasp. For a long moment, while Kirk caught his breath, they stood in each others space. Spock watched the human's expressions and responded with a raised brow.

"Uh… Spock, you can let me go now."

"Of course, Captain. If you are sure?"

"Let's go," he responded sharply, wondering what in the hell was going on with his first officer.

"To answer your unspoken question, we are 10.5 miles from the city; the difficulty is locating our return path. I am unable to pinpoint its location. We seem only to be able to move forward."

"The Primus Victus said, we couldn't get lost, remember?"

"Precisely. Therefore, we may logically conclude, the path will circle back toward the city."

"That's what I thought. We are lost. Admit it."

"I shall do no such thing."

"Any readings on the tricorder?"

"I do not require the use of an electronic device to keep my bearings."

"Spoken like a true sailor, Mister Spock."

"Ah, you see? Here, is a trail marker."

"So you were a boy scout or the Vulcan equivalent?"

"I was an Eagle Scout. Yourself?"

Kirk chuckled. "I'm no boy scout, or so I've been told."

"Agreed. Perhaps, if you had, you would not now be lost."

"Was that a shot?"

"No, sir. I have not fired my phaser."

Spock paused on the trail to hold back an evergreen branch for Kirk to continue up the path. He stumbled, and Spock caught him again. But he fell so hard they both went down. On a carpet of soft meadow grass, Kirk found himself sprawled on his first officer.

"Damn it! Sorry, Spock."

"Do not concern yourself, Jim. I am easily capable of bearing your weight. Indeed, it is most pleasant here. The grass smells sweet. The slight wind is sighing through the trees and the moon is full."

"And, we are lost."

Spock rolled Kirk from his body and rose above him. "I am not lost, Jim. I am exactly where I wish to be."

Kirk's mouth opened and closed, but nothing came out. "Uh… We… We should keep moving."

"If you wish." Spock pulled Kirk to his feet and stared down into his eyes until the captain turned away.

Jim began humming a tune as they walked.

"What is the nature of that tune you are whistling - off-key - I might add."

"When you said, you could easily bear my weight it made me think of an old song, "He Ain't Heavy. He's My Brother."

"Brothers in arms?"

"Yes and just brothers."

"I do not think of you as my brother, Jim."

"Mr. Spock, if it weren't for the fact that we're lost, in the woods, in the middle of the night on a strange planet, without our communicators, I'd say you were flirting with me or just waxing poetically."

"Flirting? Vulcans do not flirt."

"I bet your mother flirted with your father."

"I think not. Describe flirting, if you please."

"It's when a person says something suggestive."

"Such as the sexual act?"

"That would be too obvious and much too forward. Flirting is foreplay. Like looking deeply into someone's eyes just a little too long. Or, a double entendre, such as, I can easily bear your weight."

"Then by your definition, waxing poetically is," Spock slipped a hand behind Kirk's neck and pulled him close looking deeply into his eyes. "'Hear my soul speak. Of the very instant that I saw you, Did my heart fly at your service' something like this?'"

"Yeah… that's exactly… Spock!"

"Yes, Jim?"

"Behind you. I see... It's coming right at us. Look out!"

They turned as one and galloping toward them, pearl white in the night, wisps of ghostly smoke streaming behind, came a horse and rider. The rider's head balanced perfectly on the pommel. Kirk took an involuntary step back directly into Spock's arms.

"Don't be afraid, Jim. It's only the Headless Horseman of Sleepy Hollow. Spock slid his arms around Kirk's waist and whispered, "'There before me was a pale horse! Its rider was named Death…'"

"Now you're quoting the bible? There's a graveyard here too. See?"

"And a house beyond. Perhaps we can find shelter there."

"It looks haunted."

"You humans have the oddest superstitions."

"Well, of the two of us, who just correctly identified the Headless Horseman?"

"Perhaps we will find the smashed pumpkin and the lifeless body of Ichabod Crane on the other side of this bridge."

"Oh, this is just perfect. It's starting to rain."

Spock took him by the hand and hurried to the house. They arrived on the porch just as the first crack of thunder shook the air and a flash of lightning cracked the sky.

"Jim, your pulse rate is alarmingly fast."

"The only things alarming around here are the number of cliches piling up around us."

The inside of the house smelled of many decades of dust. The furniture is covered in white sheets, which almost glowed in the changing light from outside.

"No power. I'll look for some candles."

By the time Kirk returned with a handful of candles, Spock had a cheerful fire burning in the fireplace.

"How did you do that…? Never mind. I don't think I want to know. It's freezing in here."

"The ambient temperature in the room has not changed."

"Then why do I have goosebumps?"

Spock slipped long fingers around Jim's wrist. "And an elevated heart rate. Is something frightening you, Jim?"

"I'm not afraid of a damn thing, and you know it. Although, I find hearing my stoic Vulcan quoting romantic Shakespeare is a bit unsettling."

"Would you like to hear another one? 'Love sought is good, but given unsought is better.'"

The Vulcan pulled his captain to the floor next to him.

Kirk raised an eyebrow at his first officer, "Spock? Did you meet someone on shore leave while I wasn't paying attention?"

"Certainly not. I also located a bottle of something, amber in color and possessed a certain peaty smell."

"You found a bottle of Scotch? Let's try it!"

Enjoying the warmth of the fire, Kirk watched the firelight flicker off the sharp planes of Spock's face and black hair. Watching the Vulcan, sipping the whiskey, he finally commented. "Mister, Spock, you look so pale and demonic in the firelight."

"An appropriate metaphor for our current environment."

"This drink is making me sleepy. I can hardly keep my eyes open. Did you know the word 'pale' in Greek means pale green or yellowish-green?"

"It is time for you to rest. Come here, Jim."

Jim felt as though he were sliding down a dark tunnel. But he bumped to a comfortable stop when Spock pulled him against his body. The blue velour felt soft against his cheek as he drifted off, lying between Spock's legs, with his head resting on the Vulcan's chest.

"Sleep now."

A flash of lightning across his eyes forced him awake. The fire burned low, and yellow fingers of light sliced like blades across the room. The dust motes drifted and glowed in the eerie light from the storm outside. The rain hammered against the windows. The house groaned and shifted in the wind. Spock's hands began to move over the fabric of his tunic. It tickled, and Jim turned restlessly away from the roaming hands. Spock's hands went exploring, pushing the gold fabric aside. The Vulcan's hands felt rough and sharp against the black undershirt

"Hey, that hurts."

"Am I disturbing you, Jim?"

"Only slightly more than the romantic quotes."

"It is time."

Kirk tried to push himself away from Spock to sit up and maybe clear the air. Only to find himself forced down to the floor. The blue of Spock's uniform shirt moved toward him, filling his vision.

"Spock, this isn't funny. Let me up."

The hands were moving under his shirt now scraping over his chest. Against his skin, they felt like dried twigs or thorny rose stems.

"I said, that hurts."

The Vulcan turned again, and Kirk is pinned to the floor by the heavy weight of his body. Unable to open his eyes or make his body move, Kirk tried to struggle.

"Open your eyes, my Jim. Open yourself to me."

Finally, Jim could force his eyes open. His head jerked forward as he tried to escape.

The Vulcan leaning down to kiss him was suddenly the head of a pumpkin. A pumpkin with teeth carved into sharp points. The green candlelight inside the hollow gourd, pulsing through the cut eyes and dripping like green blood through the teeth. A hot drop of wax dripped on his cheek. His vision blurred.

"SPOCK!"

"Jim, wake up. Wake up."

"What the hell?" Jim said in a rush of breath. He scrubbed a hand over his face and noticed the Vulcan is sitting on the side of his bed.

"I heard you call my name."

Jim scanned his room, checking for all the familiar items in his quarters. The books on his headboard were on the floor. The statue lay on its side. He slumped back down against the pillow.

"Just a dream... It was just a dream...," Jim sighed in relief. "That was quite a dream, Spock."

The Vulcan swept a handful of paper wrappers from Kirk's beside the table. Shaking his head in disapproval, "Jim, how much Halloween candy did consume tonight?"

* * *

 

The Tempest – Act 3, Scene 1: Hear my soul speak. Of the very instant that I saw you, Did my heart fly at your service

Twelfth Night, Act III, Sc. I: Love sought is good, but given unsought is better.

Revelation 6:1-2: I looked and there before me was a pale horse! Its rider was named Death…


End file.
